


Pouring Water on an Oil Fire

by Prince_Ara



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (a bit), Come on, Courtship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I took s8e5 canon to a forest murdered it and then spit on its grave, Mutual Pining, NO pretty Brienne, Obliviousness, Protective Jaime Lannister, a lot of bad flirting on Jaime's side, both brienne and jaime have insecurities, it is still more than it deserves, jealous jaime, scarred Brienne, we all saw episode 2 he is a MESS so i wrote him as a MESS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 17:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18578887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prince_Ara/pseuds/Prince_Ara
Summary: When Jaime finds out that in a couple of weeks Brienne sails for Tarth to meet potential suitors and eventually marry, he goes through a lot of emotions. When Tyrion's advice is to court Brienne and convince her to marry him, he settles on panic.One would think a Lannister would be good at flirting, right? But when your longest (and only) relationship was with your crazy twin sister, it damages your skills a bit so you might turn to some traditional stategies... But when the target of your affection is a 6'3 female knight who is suspicious every time you dont insult her, things may get a bit... complicated.(Multichapter fic based on W. Shakespeare's Sonnet 130. I wrote this because I am done with Brienne being pretty in every other fic. She is described as ugly by beauty standards, after the war she is also as scared as one can be but it still means she can be loved and wanted and I mean to show it)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It is 3AM and my writing is funnelled by pure spite. 
> 
> This is the first chapter and it sets the scene, courting starts by chapter 2 or 3 depending on how one would define it.

Brienne’s sword and armour shined, reflecting the bright light of the early morning sun with every move of her well-trained body. Her swings were as sharp in skill as her sword was in its edge. The loud noise of clashing steel reached Jamie’s ears only as a soft cling, as he stood on the balcony facing the courtyard where she practiced. He followed her movements, trying to find mistakes and openings about which he could tease her later but ending up simply admiring her prowess.

 

Suddenly an apple flew near his head, missing him by inches. He spun around finding Tyrion there, spread out on one of the chairs. He seemed as though he had been watching for quite some time, half a glass of wine already empty.

 

“Oh, thank the Seven!” he said, feigning relief. “You've’ been staring at her so long without blinking, I was inclined to believe you had already gone blind”

 

Jaimie let out a huff, only half as irritated as he thought he ought to be. He walked over and took a glass for himself.

 

“Blind and handless. You should be glad, that would make you the more abled brother” he teased.

 

“That and an heir to Casterly Rock” Tyrion pointed out. He paused, let the silence fall. Jaimie cocked his head as a prompting. “Hear that?”

 

Jaimie laughed walking away, back to the balcony. 

 

“I spoke too soon. What good is the body when the mind goes astray”

 

“But! If you listen very closely you can just make out the soft rustling of Father turning in his grave”Tyrion said as he followed.

 

“If that in itself got him to turn, then judging by all recent events we should rush to his crypt to check if he hasn't dug himself up already”

 

“The list of things that would cause his vengeful resurrection got quite long.” Tyrion agreed with a thoughtful expression that Jaimie recognised as plotting. “I am wondering, though, if it is perhaps the time to add another to it?”

 

“Targaryens and Starks ruling the realm?” His eyebrows rose with a playful smile. “If he came back to life he would drop dead at the mere sight of it”

 

“True and humorous, but not exactly what I had in mind” he replied as he looked intently at the courtyard.

 

Jaimie followed his line of sight, stopping at Brienne. He glanced back. 

 

“What?”

“Dear brother,” Tyrion started in his political tone” I do enjoy watching your misery just as much as the next person”

 

“How lovely”

 

“But even the funniest foolery gets old in time.” he concluded with a frown.” Jaimie, as much as I love seeing you both bond over you being stubborn and playing craven over who looks away first, even you must realise that someone has to make the first move one day”

 

Jaimie chuckled nervously. “I am not sure I understand what you are saying”

 

“If your thoughts cannot follow such a simple concept, then perhaps I should take away your sword, lest you cannot follow picking it up and try to wield it with the wrong end.” Tyrion deadpanned.

 

Jaimie rolled his eyes but didn’t deny anymore. He simply stood there looking at Brienne who was now at the offence, having found the opening. He let out a breath. “Why do you care if I make a move?”

 

“You?” He let out a laugh at which Jaimie felt mildly offended. “If I waited long enough for you to make the move, I might actually grow tall enough to move you myself. Gods know it would come in handy but for now I have to settle for persuasion” Tyrion took out a piece of paper from his pocket and offered it.

 

Jaimie frowned, suspicious. “What’s this?”

 

“My move. Well, a nudge in the right direction”

 

“Which is?” Jaimie asked with even more distrust.

 

“A letter. Addressed to Brienne.”

 

“No. “He stepped away, pointing his finger at his brother.”I don’t care what it is. I’m not going to read it and invade her privacy like this.”

 

“Good thing I don't share the sentiment and can cite it to you. ”He smiled. “It’s from Lord Selwyn of Tarth.” Tyrion waited for a reaction, a prompting but Jaimie refused to give in, even turning to face the courtyard, signaling that he is ignoring him. Tyrion let out a frustrated huff.” Brienne’s father.”

 

“I know who he is.” Jaime replied, visibly irritated.

 

“Then you might also know that he’s not getting any younger.” his brother mused.

 

“And neither do I. Will you get to the point?” he stressed.

 

“Well,” Tyrion sighed dramatically. ”she is Selwyn’s only child and he feels most worried that he won’t live long enough to see her marry. “He paused, checking if he had Jaime's full attention. “In fact, he urges her to find herself a suitor or let him propose a desirable match”

 

“He tried it already in the past.” he shrugged it off, almost succeeding to feign nonchalance. A beat. Two. Three. “Why did he bring that up now?” he spun around.

 

“Oh, Jaimie. Sometimes I think that I’m not only the smarter brother but the only smart Lannister left alive. Good thing you’re pretty.”He added with humour in his voice but at the sight of Jaime’s face he turned serious a second later. “We are at peace, Jaime. The days are warmer, the realm stable once again.” He sighed heavily, as if he was explaining a piece of common knowledge to a small child. “Politics. Money. Tradition. Take your pick. She might have been a knight during war but at peace she is still the Lady of Tarth, the only heir of her father and a woman way past the proper age to marry. He his growing impatient. This time he might not take no for an answer”

 

“So what?” He spat out, growing louder with every word. He gripped the stone of the balcony, knuckles going white.” She fought harder than any man for the peace of this realm while he waited safe in his castle. She bled, fought, starved, risked her life! How can he- How DARE he- She survived with scars where the Dead cut off her  _ flesh _ , if he thinks she owes him any  **more** of her because of some  **_tradition_ ** then he is sorely mistaken” He hit the stone with his clenched fist, breathing heavily. ” He cannot force her to marry. No, no, in fact, let him try, I would like to see how the Queen, with all of her history, reacts to a forced marriage.” He ended his tirade with a dry chuckle, taking a swing of his wine and throwing the cup away.

 

“As much as I would agree with your righteous anger should she be forced into this, “Tyrion began carefully. “I’m afraid it is not the case.” Jamie's eyes shot up, fiery rage put down by sudden and pure confusion. “She agreed. Out of her own free will, it seems.”

 

“What?” he asked, eyes searching for confirmation. “How do you know this?”

 

“Podrick. He was the one to bring me the letter in fact. He saw her reading it and throwing it away. Asked her about it. She said that she will stay until the royal wedding and then sail to Tarth, to meet with potential suitors.“ He paused. “She claimed it was time.” 

 

“Time? Time?” he repeated, incredulously. “For what? She is a warrior, not a… A giggly maid ready to happily submit herself to her fat, old husband!”

 

“She is also a woman of honor. Whether she agreed out of desire for family or to fulfill her duty, I don't know. What I do know is, it is not important.”

 

“How can you say it is not important? If she is doing this because of some foolish loyalty..!” 

Jaimie began, a feeling of anger, injustice and betrayal setting in his chest. 

 

“It doesn’t matter.” Tyrion repeated and put up a hand to stop Jaimie from talking. “What matters, “he continued with patience. ”Is that you can help her marry someone she would want to. Someone she likes, someone who might make her happy even” 

 

Jaimie swallowed and words dying in his throat, averting his eyes. Instead of at Tyrion, he looked to the courtyard, where Brienne stood in victory, giving a helping hand to the man laying in the dirt. Her hair was sticking to her forehead, wet with sweat and her breath was heavy. She brushed the strands with her fingers, back, away from her eyes. She looked up and, be it by chance or instinct, found him on the balcony, catching him with eyes fixed on her. Her tired body gave away her surprise when her blank face wouldn’t. She held his gaze, hard eyes, chin high, lips thin, back straight. He moved back a little, subconsciously mirroring the pose, consciously fighting with his body to take slow, measured breaths. His heart pounded - fast, irregular - giving all the impression as if he was there, sparring with her, hard and long, and not far away, simply following her movements. He saw her clench her hand on the sword (the sword he’d given her, his mind quickly added) then relaxing it a second later. He half wondered how he even noticed it. How come her smallest movements bring his full attention. The moment ended and she looked to his left and returned Tyrion’s nod. Then she lowered her head and left.

 

“Court her. “Tyrion said softly as if trying not to wake him. “Then convince her to accept your proposal. Beg if you have to.”

 

“If only, “He half-whispered, though his clenched throat.” it were that easy”

 

“When was it easy? You lost your hand, she was almost eaten by a bear, you fought the Dead together and Sevens know how much luck you had to have for both of you to survive that war. You both care about each other and I think I would hate you forever if ruined it now.” Tyrion pat Jamie's back and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for such quick feedback! I wasn't expecting to wake up to kudos and even comments!

Jaime walked briskly through the castle, holding a plate with 3 small lemon cakes on it. It would seem normal, if not for the fact that once in a while he would glare at the desserts as if they were guilty of the most treacherous offence the realm has ever known and slow his pace for a moment just to grumble under his breath.

 

Truly, this was the most foolish idea. Bringing sweets to a lady as if he were boy with milk still under his nose… He didn’t even know if she  _ liked  _ lemon cakes...or lemon...or cakes! Truth be told he didn’t know what she liked at all, other than sword fighting, oaths and insults, of course. But one could hardly court someone based on those interests. Maybe he would give her a sword, if he hadn’t done just that already. And how does a man out-do valyrian steel, anyway? 

 

Besides, food is food and even she had to eat something. 

 

Jaime took a long, calming breath and shook his head. What made it all worse was the fact that even this ridiculous idea wasn’t his. He was walking through the garden, trying to figure out what step in courtship would bring him closer to Brienne (as opposed to her breaking his leg) when he stumbled upon the Queen and Lady Sansa walking, lost in conversation. He overheard her recounting the stories of her childhood. How desserts, when gifted to her, never failed to leave her giddy and charmed, how even now lemon cakes softened the hard look in her eye and relaxed the tension.  _ Even a dragon is kinder when well fed.  _ Daenerys then said with a smile in her voice.

 

He shouldn’t have even considered it as a viable strategy but he was starting to be desperate and his mind was blank. So he rushed to a servant and asked for the best lemon cakes she could find. And now he was walking through the castle, looking for Brienne, with a plate of 3 perfect little desserts, hoping she wasn’t allergic to citrus. With his luck she might.

 

He was becoming pathetic, really.  

 

He picked up the pace with determination, so as not to let his doubts cloud his purpose.The purpose to convince Brienne to accept him as a suitor. She definitely wouldn’t consider him now, that he was sure of but… perhaps with an appropriate amount of persuasion, maybe a little of manipulation… It was all for her own good, really. Maybe he didn’t have much more than his name and coin but he could make her  _ happy _ . He would spar with her, treat her as an equal, wouldn’t try to force himself on her (even if she wasn’t perfectly able to knock him out). And yes, maybe he was a  _ little  _ older but at least he wasn’t fat-

 

“Agh!” Jaimie exclaimed as his body collided with someone. He lost his balanced and felt the plate slip from his hand. He heard a  _ clang  _ of it landing on the floor. He already knew cakes were unsalvageable and cursed loudly, ready to duel whoever just ruined his (bad and only) plan. “You should watch where you’re going!” he said in anger before checking who he had collided with.

 

“And you. “Brienne spoke, making him look at her. “Although, perhaps you can’t. Lord Tyrion did mention your sight worsening.” she added with a small lift of an eyebrow.

 

“Did he now.” he stated, irritated. The cakes were ruined, Tyrion is jesting about him behind his back. How is he supposed to be treated as a serious suitor if he is turned into a joke?

 

Brienne looked down at the dessert on the floor and back at him.

 

“Cake so soon after breakfast?” she asked, her tone light. “No wonder all your shirts look tighter.”

 

Jaime took a step back, offended. Did she just call him both old _ and fat _ ? “This is all trained muscle, wench. Not to mention, you eat two times more than me.” he shot back.

 

“And practice thrice more” she stated, leaving things unsaid and starting to walk again, clearly having somewhere she needs to be.

 

Jaimie hesitated for a split second and followed. He might’ve avoided her  for the past three days, not being sure how to proceed with the knowledge he had. For the first day he was afraid his anger might take the better of him, afraid that he might scream at her for accepting her father’s plea, for being stupidly loyal. For the next two… he was just afraid.

 

“Maybe I am tired of our battles not being a challenge” Jaime continued with a half-teasing tone.

 

“If you are tired of me winning so easily, I can get Podrick to fight alongside you.” she easily countered.” Still doesn’t seem fair but it might give you a chance”

 

“Sacrificing Podrick to spend more time with me? Your devotion warms my heart.” he replied spreading fingers over his chest and giving her a smile. “Where are you going?”

 

“To meet with the Queen. I was summoned.” she replied, curtly.

 

“Summoned? And why would she do that? Unless... “ He let out a small breath as it dawned on him. “Lady Brienne of Tarth, I believe you will be offered to join the Kingsguard. Or, well... Queensguard, I suppose.”

 

Brienne stopped in her tracks, stumbling slightly. 

 

“That can’t be it. The Queen already has a guard” she disagreed, half-heartedly

 

“Wrong, she has an  _ army.  _ She has never chosen anyone officially as a member of the guard,  _ yet.  _ It would be wise to pick at least one Westerosi knight and there’s not one more skilled than you in the whole Kingdom.” he stated, matter-of-factly.

 

Her large, blue eyes spared him only one long glance before she let out a huff and walked away leaving him to follow. The corners of her lips curled slightly in a small smile, stretching the scar on her cheek, bringing his attention to the lines and curves of the tissue. He remembered as clear as day the moment she got it. She was fighting by his side, hordes of White Walkers at every turn, when one wrong step on an uneven terrain and a well-timed blow caused her to fall,  **hard** , onto the ground. The next one came for her head soon after, which she (barely,  _ at last second _ ) managed to partially block but not well enough for it not to wound her. If it had not been her but any other knight, if her reflexes weren’t this fast, she would already be dead. Jaime killed the bastard before it finished the job but for a split of a second, for the tiniest moment that will forever be carved in his heart, the amount of blood and the open flesh made him believe the worst and he felt cold fear freeze his veins. Back on her feet, she fought just as fiercely, with no regard for pain or the open wound, killing the dead with a battle cry on her lips. Saved him a few times as well. More than he cares to admit.

 

He knew she had more scars from that battle.He could imagine them all, knew where all the blows hit, where they left angry, red, uneven marks. All representing a different part of her skill and bravery. A testament to both her sacrifice and victory. 

 

He often wanted to see them, trace them, study them. He wished that one day she would let him.

 

Brienne finally noticed him staring at her face and grew progressively more uncomfortable until she stopped and turned to him, exasperated.

 

“Do you intend to follow me all the way to the throne room?”

 

“I only wish to escort a lady, as any well-mannered man would.” he responded almost casually, pretending his mind wasn’t on the battlefield seconds prior. 

 

“And is it well-mannered to stare and distract?” she asked in a no nonsense voice.

 

Jaime laughed out loud at her tone. “I am merely admiring your exceptional features.” he said before he could hold his tongue, with a smile playing on his lips.

 

Brienne recoiled as if struck and clenched her jaw. She straightened up even more after a second, her face blank and only her eyes showing anger. 

 

Jaime was surprised at that reaction, looking for what could’ve offended her so and coming up with nothing. Still, he felt he did a grave mistake somewhere and rushed to fix it, not knowing how.

 

“Brienne…” he started but she cut him off.

 

“Dont. Don’t follow me.” she said with voice accepting no arguments and left with fast and long strides. 

 

Jaime hesitated but didn’t follow. He simply propped his back on a hard, stone wall and sighed. Did she reject him already? No, he would not take that answer unless it comes from her lips. Did she think it was an insult? He supposed it could be interpreted as such but he couldn't exactly say that her battle scars reminded him of her prowess and bravery. Next time maybe he’ll just settle for a cliche like beautiful or stunning. At least that can’t be mistaken for anything but a compliment, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if they were any mistakes, it is hard to beta your own work :/
> 
> Also, just so you know, the title resembles the fic A LOT


End file.
